


Masks and Dances

by WanderingBandurria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Identity Reveal, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Post-First War with Voldemort, This is not as angsty as the tags make it look, a lot of swaring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24928945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingBandurria/pseuds/WanderingBandurria
Summary: The war against Voldemort ended in 1980, thanks to Regulus Black. And yet, things are not back to normal - not for Remus, at least, because his friends are idiots with whom he’s not talking.So when an invitation for a Masquerade at Hogwarts arrives at his home, he quickly discards it.Because of course he’s not going. Of course not.The Marauders can go and play “mystery gentleman” on their own.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 107





	Masks and Dances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swottypotter (miraxb)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraxb/gifts).



> So, I did a good/bad thing. I sent [SwottyPotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swottypotter/pseuds/swottypotter) a prompt, and then wrote my own version of it. This is it. This ended up being a lot of fun to write, and a great counterpoint, I think, given that Swott's fic is a non-magic AU, and this is a Canon divergence! Please go and check [reeling through the midnight streets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778429), it's really cute!!
> 
> A big shout out for my lovely Beta, LikeABellThroughTheNight. The attention to detail, the willingness to explain English to me, the support to all my silly stories. You are amazing.
> 
> Still, English is not my first language so please, if you spot any mistake, they are my full responsibility. Please let me know if you see anything incorrect so that I can keep improving my writing skills! As far as you do that gently, I'll be forever grateful.

\---

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has the honour to invite all their alumni to the masquerade ball of the decade of 1980. Attached to this letter you can find a mask that has a special glamour charm to cover up your identity. You can personalize the exterior of it as you wish, or leave it as it is. For the purposes of this ball, every attendant is required to wear black dress robes. Please remember that the charm will also disguise any jewellery that might make you identifiable (e.g., family embroidered rings, culturally related earrings, etc, etc)._

_As in every masquerade ball, the charm will be lifted at midnight to celebrate the start of a new decade, the end of the fight against Voldemort, and call for good luck. The ball will be held on the night of…_

Remus stops reading before finishing the letter, crumples it, and tosses it to the trash. Perfect aim. He also takes the black eye-mask and sends it like a boomerang to a corner of his room. It lands over his dirty laundry. Score!

He gets Lily’s letter a few hours later, “ _Are you going? it sounds like fun!”_ He answers shortly with a “ _No fucking way I’m going. Not even if you try to drag me in an emotional blackmail rollercoaster. I’m not giving in this time, EVANS.”_ And with that, the conversation is over, Lily already aware that the battle is lost when he refuses to address her with her first name.

And with that, he can be sure that all the Marauders are informed that he’s not going. Not that he _cares_ that they know about it, because _he doesn’t_. Things have gone to hell two months before the end of the war, when Sirius, with James and Peter trailing behind him, accused him of being a traitor (well, _he_ _didn’t use those exact words_ , he had acknowledged to Lily later, _but the message was clear,_ _Lily, so stop trying to fix what cannot be fixed_ ). Needless to say, they had ended the row hexing each other’s butts before Potter and Pettigrew stopped them. But, as he said, _he_ _doesn’t care_ what those assholes are up to now. 

They can pretty much go and fuck themselves and play the “mystery gentleman” as much as they want in the old castle, fucking immature prats.

\---

_This is it, Lupin,_ he says to himself, correcting once again the mask over his face, feeling the soft tingling of magic that irradiates from it. _This is utterly stupid, but if you want to do it, you are doing it, goddammit - no more guilt, no more letting your life being dictated by them. You are going to go and have a nice time with people that don’t know you, and that’s it. And you are just going to avoid any couple, trio or quartet of dumbasses that might be them._

_Yes_ , he reassures himself, not that it’s likely that he’ll end up _dancing_ with one of them. He’ll just make sure to leave as soon as he sees them after the charm is lifted. And maybe if they see him he’ll feel some kind of satisfaction at the look on their faces when they realize that he doesn’t need them to have a good time, and that feeling will squash the longing and deep desire to forgive them, call the last three months a bad dream and just rush back to the company of his now-former friends (and if there’s a voice in the back of his head that says _oh, shush, like you haven’t already forgiven them,_ it’s quickly dismissed).

He opens the doors of the great hall distractedly, his mind too deep in its monologue. He smiles at everyone he passes by, gaining more and more confidence when he realizes he can’t identify _anyone_. He doesn’t fully understand the charm on the masks, but it feels like his memory of faces is a bit muddled, so not even their skin tone or the shape of their mouth can help him place who is behind them.

Still, it’s quite evident by the attitude of some people that glance at him over their noses that they are purebloods. He goes to the table to pour himself some firewhiskey, and snorts in his glass when someone casually leans against the table by his side and mutters “I wouldn’t drink _that_ , I think some immature kids put a charm on the firewhiskey to make it taste like old socks. Or maybe it’s just the fact that it was donated by some of the _old families_ to demonstrate how well-behaved they can be now with Voldemort gone.”

He turns to the person on his side and smiles brightly at the dark blue mask embroidered with shiny glass that makes it look like the night sky. So, not a prejudiced pureblood, for the casual mention of Voldemort without any reverence nor fear, and not one of his former mates, he thinks, since they wouldn’t rat out someone for _pranking_ people. Even more, the person by his side is alone, and there’s no way that one of the assholes would be - too much dependence between them to let go of each other’s hands even for a minute.

“Oh?” he keeps the glass close to his lips, frozen on its way to his mouth, and smiles yet again. He takes a long sniff. “Mh, you are right, it does smell like prejudice, false victimization, and lies.” The other person laughs, playing with the tips of their bright, dark hair, in a gesture that Remus feels almost familiar, but he can’t put his finger on it. Oh, the charm is good, really good, isn’t it? He feels like all his memories are foggy and he can’t pinpoint any gesture he has ever seen. “What would you suggest, then?”

“I think you are probably safe with the beer or the gin. Too muggle to be muddled up with, aren’t they? Let me fix you a drink, I’ve been told that my gin and tonic is to die for,” and a cheeky smile graces their face, and Remus feels his stomach do an odd jump in his belly at the gesture.

Remus laughs heartily, feeling a bit dizzy at how simple this is - talking with a stranger, _flirting_ with someone he doesn’t know anything about and who’s not an obnoxious, flickering prat that acts like their flirting means _nothing_ \- like two years ago, when they _almost_ kissed after they thought the other dead, only to bring a new girlfriend a few days later. _No. I’m not thinking about that_ , he admonishes himself, _I’m not thinking about him_. He clears his throat noticing that he has spaced out, the person in front of him raising an eyebrow while extending the drink to him.

“Uh, thank you,” and he gulps down the drink. He laughs before he can get too self-conscious about their flirting. “It’s actually a pretty good gin and tonic. I’m surprised,” he mocks, receiving in return a pleased smile. _Everything is alright,_ he tries to calm himself, _none of the prats would go this long without boasting about their merits and how amazing their friends are. Even more, none of them would be flirting with a man, to begin with,_ he supposes _._ “Do you want to dance?” he asks before he can regret it, the alcohol starting to pulse in his veins.

The stranger smiles.

“Yeah. I would love to,” they answer, eyes glittering behind the mask before walking to the dance floor with their hands in the robes’ pockets, relaxed and happy. They look at him over the shoulder and laugh when they see Remus still standing by the table. “We should go to the dance floor instead of blocking the drinks table, don’t you think? Come on, don’t make me dance on my own, or I’ll look like a crazy man, and we don’t want that, do we?”

Remus smiles back, feeling the scar on his lip pulling a bit. He hasn’t smiled this much in a while. _Since breaking up with the asses,_ provides his mind, always helpful. He puts his glass back on the table and starts walking briskly to his companion, grabbing the man’s hand on the way, making him yelp and laugh while being pulled to the middle of the dancing crowd of masked wizards and witches, who are twirling and clapping and generally moving without much rhythm.

He doesn’t care about anything else right now but the bass rumbling in his stomach and the warm hand in his, and _This is it_ , _Lupin_ , he reminds himself, _you are here to have a nice time and dance with whomever you want and enjoy the night._ He moves his hands and with a questioning look, puts them softly on his dance partner’s hips. The man just smiles back and grabs his arms, running his hands up and down them. 

They start dancing, and Remus closes his eyes for a second, enjoying the push and pull of the other body under his hands, letting his head bob with the rhythm of the music. When he opens his eyes, his dance partner is looking at him intently from behind his blue mask, with a soft smile in his lips, his eyes piercing Remus’ to the core. There’s so much intent in those eyes, like they are trying to find an answer, like he’s a puzzle, that Remus feels himself tremble, his nerves attempting to catch fire under his chest at all the possibilities in front of him.

Remus hasn’t had this much fun in - well, he doesn’t even know how long it’s been. Maybe Lily’s and James’ wedding? He laughs and takes the hand offered to him that twirls him in his place, and that pushes and pulls, making him shake and stumble around the dancefloor like a teenager. He laughs and laughs, mumbling the lyrics, receiving in return bright smiles and a few “Oh, you really know the lyrics, don’t you?” whispered in his ear when they are close again that makes him feel hot and cold. The want curls in his belly.

He won’t ask himself how long it’s been since he desired someone this bad.

They dance for what feels like hours, their bodies close and warm, and everything flows smoothly, the stranger’s deep voice making the hairs in his nape stand up when he comes close to his ear to joke about a dance move, or make up stupid stories about the people surrounding them. His favourite is about the gentleman and the lady in a corner of the dancefloor - “class 61,” says his companion, “that’s Eric Clapton, but shush, that’s a secret. He’s here with his secret lover, a vampiress that goes by the name of _Lulú Swallows_ \- don’t laugh, that’s her choice -, that has been draining the blood of musicians since 1582, and who keeps his bed, well, cold, when he’s on tour.”

Remus feels bold again, even when there’s probably no alcohol in his veins, so he takes the other man’s hand and lets his breath ghost over his neck when he mutters “want to go out for a bit?” The man nods and smiles, and Remus feels like he’s completely wasted because there’s no way that his natural reaction to a _smile_ is to feel like the floor is being pulled out from under his feet.

Still, he pushes down the nervous feeling and takes the blue-masked man out of the dancefloor, casually grabbing two beers on the way out of the great hall and towards the grounds. They walk in silence for a while, sipping from their bottles, watching the soft movement of the trees and the dark sky, full of stars. They don’t say anything about it, but Remus thinks that it’s clear that they are looking for a lonely, dark corner.

They arrive at a secluded bench surrounded by trees that Remus doesn't remember from his school years. The silence is comfortable, but after they finish their beers, Remus starts to dread the moment that is about to come, with all the questions about his name, what he does, and _did we know each other back at school?_

So he’s definitely surprised when the other man fixes his eyes on him, making him squirm and his heart go crazy, just to say “can I kiss you?” in a soft and calm voice that would be more appropriate to ask for the time.

Remus is about to nod, but what comes out of his mouth is “are you sure?” His dance partner laughs.

“What, you’re asking me if I’m sure that I want to kiss you?” and the infinite depths of his eyes paralyze Remus. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure. I’ve been sure since you grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the dancefloor, I was just waiting -” 

“But, I mean… you don’t even know what I look like! I might be -” the man puts his hand on Remus’ cheek, touching softly the edge of the black mask that covers a third of his face, and suddenly Remus doesn’t remember what was his point, the thrill running down his body. So what if they don’t know what the other looks like? He hasn’t felt this attracted to _anyone_ in a long time. He doesn’t need to know how the other man looks - he doesn’t really care.

So when the man slowly starts approaching him, Remus puts his hands on his neck, smiles, and leans in, closing the gap between their lips.

And _oh, boy_ , if the leap of faith didn’t pay off. Remus feels electricity all over his back when their lips meet, and he’s so warm, so light, that everything else disappears. He can feel the deep breaths of the other man on his cheek, and his hand goes down to grab his hips, digging his fingertips there. 

Remus pushes his tongue into the other man’s mouth, moaning at the warmth and intimacy. It’s like they know what the other wants, it’s like the kiss puts everything into place. He can feel himself getting ablaze with only this - only a kiss.

But then the guy is abruptly pulling away, his hands pushing Remus a bit to look him in the eye, and then he’s on his feet, pacing in front of the bench before Remus can even stop blinking, trying to reorient himself in time and space.

“You have to be kidding me, mate,” he hears the man mutter. He stops in front of Remus, his eyes burning behind the blue mask. “How the fuck…? the _only_ person that I feel attracted to in fucking _months_ and it’s still _you!_ This is just -” the guy curls his fingers into a fist, before changing his mind and starting to pull at his hair.

“What? I’m who? what?” Remus manages to say, his heart slowing down, his brain still foggy, but dread filling the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck sake! You don’t even recognize me?” the guy almost yells, frustrated.

Remus laughs, confused.

“Of course not! the whole point of the masks is that we can’t know who the other person is! what are you going on about?”

“Oh, but you see, I know _exactly_ who you are, Remus!” the guy says desperately, and something heavy falls in Remus’ chest. What the fuck is going on? “I recognized you because of the scar on your lip - my magic broke the spell as soon as I touched it. The fucking scar I’ve spent _years_ fantasizing about kissing,” the guy pauses, but Remus is too shocked to say anything. “And now… and now I’ve fucking kissed you, but you have _no idea_ who I am, and you will regret this when it’s midnight, and I’m so, so sorry, Remus, I’m so sorry. For everything. For _everything,”_ and even when he sounds earnest, the man still looks collected, his hands in the pockets of his robes. His eyes, though, are so sad, so bright - like the glass on his mask - that they make Remus feel like someone is kicking him in the throat. “I’ll leave now, okay? I think it is for the best if you don’t know who I am. I guess that you are still under the influence of the charm, so don’t worry, you won’t know who you kissed.” 

The stranger turns and starts to walk away. Remus feels _something_ prodding him into action. He can’t let him go. He won’t. 

So he jumps on his feet, and grabs the man’s arm, gently making him turn.

He looks surprised, sad, and hopeful. He looks into Remus’ eyes from behind his mask, with pupils so big that they make Remus’ thoughts stop. The man starts to say something - probably asking Remus to let him go, that it’s for the best, when Remus’ hands come up to caress softly the mask over the temples, feeling the soft plush and the cold glass. The stranger falls silent, his eyes fixed in Remus, just waiting while Remus’ fingers travel around his head to find the knot that keeps the mask in place. 

Remus can feel his heartbeat in his throat. He can feel his lips swollen by the kiss. He can’t get his eyes off the grey ones that look back at him, so vulnerable, so tender, so sad.

He pulls the silk ribbon, but one of his thumbs keeps the mask in place for a second.

“Can I?” he asks, and he can hear how his voice is trembling.

The stranger nods and raises his hands to grab the sides of his masks himself, like he’s trying to put some distance between them. Remus keeps one hand behind the man's head, feeling the soft ribbon, and uses the other to grab his own mask. As he moves his own mask to his forehead, close to his hairline, he feels the ribbon of the stranger’s mask slip through his fingers.

And like a veil falling off his eyes, he can see Sirius’ eyes looking back at him, steely, firm, and so, so clear. His breath gets caught in his throat. Sirius lowers his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Remus. For everything that happened. I don’t - I really don’t think those things that I said that day. Every time I look back, every second I remember how stupid I was, I regret it. I don’t know why I let - No, you know what? I won’t even try to excuse myself. I was an idiot, and I hope someday you’ll forgive me, because I really want you back in my life. I just... I want to see you every morning, Remus. And when I realized that I _couldn’t -_ that you wouldn’t answer my owls, and that your Floo network was blocked and I couldn’t go to visit you anymore… I couldn’t function, Remus. I can’t stop thinking -”

Remus interrupts him, feeling vertigo at the stampede of words from Sirius. And oh, _fuck_ , but he can’t deny anymore that he had already forgiven Sirius, and that the only thing _he_ wants is to have him back in his life. He can’t deny that when he heard Sirius say that he wakes up thinking about him, his heart leapt to his mouth, screaming _This is it, Lupin. This is everything you ever wanted._

“You wanted to kiss me for years?” is what comes out of his mouth, instead of any of the more urgent, logical questions.

Sirius looks so confused that Remus laughs. His hands grab Sirius’ head, and he puts his forehead against Sirius’, breathing in to steady himself. Sirius looks at him like he’s the most precious thing he has ever seen, before smiling softly.

“Yeah. I was a bit of an idiot though. I’m still a bit of an idiot,” he says, and his eyes get clouded, self-doubt gaining control for only a second. “But still…”

“Mh, I like that you are an idiot. _Most_ of the time,” he says softly and smiles brightly when he realizes that _yes, this is easy, flirting with Sirius is easy._

They go silent for just a second, the muffled sounds of the great hall barely getting to them. Sirius is smiling back at Remus, and Remus doesn’t know how to wipe the soppy smile off his face. He’s not sure he wants to.

“I’m sorry, Moony,” Sirius says softly, tentatively, like he’s trying the nickname out in his mouth again.

Remus laughs.

“I think I forgave you right away, Padfoot,” and he can’t stop smiling when he sees Sirius lighten up at the nickname. “I just… I needed time. I was hurt. And I was trying to protect myself. I… I can’t go through something like that again, though,” he adds, feeling his heart beat like crazy at the confession - at the admission of how much power Sirius has over him. He can almost hear all the words that go unsaid: _I can’t go through this again, otherwise you’ll break me. Because you’ll realize that I’ll come back to you every time; because you’ll see that you have the power to make me forgive you over and over again._

Sirius nods, and his hands pull Remus closer by his robes, fisting the fabric. 

“I promise you, Moony. I won’t explode at you like that again - I’ll try my best not to hurt you, if you decide to keep me around. I’ll come up to talk with you about what’s on my mind instead of cornering you with Prongs and…” he stops like his mind has just figured something out. “fucking Peter,” he adds, after a beat.

“What about Peter?” asks Remus, frowning, feeling a bit defensive about how clipped Sirius’ voice sounds.

“Peter… fuck. Doesn’t matter. He’s not here tonight, so I’ll deal with that later.” Remus raises his eyebrow, discomfort settling in his belly at being kept out of something. Sirius seems to sense it. “It’s just - I really don’t want to make excuses, Moony, but Peter was the one that convinced us that you were acting suspiciously and that you might be thinking about, well, switching to the Packs’ side,” Remus huffs, angry, but Sirius tightens his grip around him and adds quickly, “I know, I know, it doesn’t make any sense. I know that, I promise you, Remus. I knew that immediately after confronting you, I just couldn’t - I’m an idiot. I’ll talk to Peter tomorrow. I’ll get to the bottom of this,” he reassures him.

“Okay,” says Remus, hesitantly, and breaths in, trying to clear his mind. 

The silence, this time, is heavier, the laughs from the hall feeling strange and out of place. Remus lets his hands fall from Sirius’ face to his shoulders.

“Can I kiss you again, now?” asks Sirius, softly, after a second.

Remus looks at him startled for a second before snorting.

“Oh, nice way of changing the topic, Padfoot. But yeah. You can,” he nudges Sirius’ nose with his, and touches softly Sirius’ neck with his fingers, feeling the goosebumps rising under his fingertips. “We can figure out everything else later,” he adds, smiling softly.

_They have time_ , he thinks idly for a second, before losing any possibility of thought when Sirius’ tongue touches his, decided and intent this time. He sighs into Sirius’ mouth, feeling like a teenager, _finally, finally_ kissing Sirius Black in the middle of Hogwarts’ grounds. 

Only that this time, unlike his fantasies, he can actually feel Sirius smiling while he kisses him, and mutter _fucking finally,_ when he starts kissing Remus’ neck, making him gasp and grab Sirius’ desperately.

\---

Later, much later, while they are still at the ball, Remus’ brain decides to finally catch up with everything that’s going on. He gets a cold feeling at the thought of how things came to be like this. _Have time, my ass,_ he thinks, holding back his laughter _._ He can feel the mask on his forehead, he can feel Sirius’ hot lips on his shoulder, he can feel his own hands clutching Sirius’ back under his robes. 

He sighs, and mumbles “Hey, Padfoot.” His voice feels weird and a bit feverish on his own ears. “Um, are James and Lily here? Can we go find them, maybe talk things up?”

Sirius freezes in place for just a second, his hand under Remus’ shirt stopping on its way towards his chest. 

He laughs softly and starts buttoning Remus’ shirt before kissing the place under Remus’ ear. “Of course, Moony. Let’s go find them.”

Remus feels something like love - _it’s not love, of course -_ flooding his chest. Sirius understands. Sirius understands that he needs this _before_ figuring things out between them.

He gently squeezes Sirius’ arms when each of them take a step away. Sirius looks dazed but a bit nervous. Remus smiles.

“We can talk about this later, yeah? No need to tell anyone yet,” and Sirius nods. Remus smiles again. “Come on, let’s find the Potters now. It might be past midnight already, so we might be able to find James’ stupid face soon enough.”

\---

The next week, when Remus wakes in Sirius’ bed, blurry-eyed and with his chest so, so full of happiness that he feels like he might start floating, there’s a note in the dining table confirming that indeed, Peter Pettigrew is MIA, and nobody has news about him since the night before the Masquerade. The Order suspects a former Death Eaters attack in retaliation for all his work for the Order, but Sirius, James, Lily and Remus have other ideas.

“That fucking rat,” mutters Sirius, tossing the letter back on the table before raising his head and smiling so brightly at Remus, who’s entering the room, that he feels his pulse gaining speed just at the gesture.

_This is it, Lupin_ , Remus thinks before smiling back, and grabbing Sirius by the shoulders, he pulls him into a tight embrace - just before biting softly on Sirius’ neck, feeling the other man laugh against his ear.

\---

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this fic, please let me know what you think about it! 
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/wanderingbandurria) if you want to chat!


End file.
